Agnes
by Lucy Kent
Summary: In the Janus Thickey Ward is a woman stuck in a half-human half-dog transformation. Agnes is an example of why to be cautious when attempting to become an Animagus. But in a world filled with Death Eaters and secrets, is that what really happened? A Hidden Moments story.


**It's been a while since I wrote a story. Enjoy.**

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Her deepest regret in life was not that she was in the hospital. To her it did not matter that she would never speak again, that her hands now ravaged all they touched, or that the world thought her mind was lost. She did not even regret birthing a son out of wedlock. The world had shunned her and she had pressed forward, determined that her son would have the best in life. She had cried, bled, and strained every muscle in her body for that. Her hair had turned silver early, her magical core stretched thin, but these things she didn't regret. Her regret was that it was all in vain.

She looked around her hospital room, noting the other occupants. Except for her, they were gone to the world. A couple who never spoke, never moved, never acknowledged their crying son being held by a weeping grandmother. The man who seemed sane to her at first, but it was clear that he was a mere baby trapped in the man of a body. His memories destroyed beyond repair. And the newest member. The man who thought he was a teapot. He would occasionally say something, muttering words like "Imp", or "Sea" or once "Mysteries". Of course, the nurses all believed her to be in the same state. Her mind transformed into that of a wild beast. A mistaken Animagus transformation.

It had been nearly 16 years since she discovered her regret. Halloween night found her in sitting before the fire sipping at some sherry. She was leisurely reading through a book that, despite her age, made her giggle with jealous excitement. It was moments like this that let her forget about the chaos outside. Everyday she feared for her son. He was an auror who was constantly fighting these "Death Eaters" who will going on a rampage. She worried every moment he was on the field. Even now, her poor son was on some kind of overnight duty.

Her thoughts were broken when, just after midnight, her son stumbled through the door clutching his arm. The sherry hit the floor, forever staining her carpet, but Agnes didn't care. This was her greatest fears confirmed. She rushed to him and pulled his hand from his forearm. Her eyes immediately seeking out the source of his pain. An swirling black stain stared up at her. Agnes felt her heart stop and her breath freeze. Why was that thing on her son? He was a sweet innocent boy who fought for the justice of the world. He could never... She threw the thoughts aside. For now, she had to help her son recover.

For three days her son lay sick in bed, the Dark Mark pulsing with an angry energy. She sat there for hours staring at it, willing it away. Then it faded. The life in it dissipating and her son falling into a fitful, but painless sleep. Agnes sagged in relief. But without her son's pain to distract her, she began to worry. Why had he gotten the Mark? Was it under duress? Was it possibly his choice? What could she do? Could she turn her son in for being a Death Eater? No. Of course she couldn't. But she would never be able to tell a soul. Could she hold this secret? She could, but she worried she would collapse under the weight of it. In the end, she decided it would be better if that night had never happened. She lifted her wand and cast a spell her mother had created. She deleted any memory her son had of seeing her that night, and added ones of him taking care of himself. That done she quickly apparated to Paris and spent the night there.

The next morning she cast a spell to alter her own memories. She worried for her own health, if she were to constantly think of it. Instead, she could only remember spending the past 5 days in Paris. A secret getaway she had been planning for months. But she chose not to remove the memories. One day her son might come to her asking for help or advice about this mistake of his. On that day, should she see the mark again, she would recall all of that night.

Nearly 5 years passed without incident, both of them unaware of what had happened on the night Harry Potter destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Agnes woke up one morning with a suddenly longing to see her son. So she apparated to her son's house. He had been married the year before to a beautiful half-blood, and she had hardly seen the pair since. As she approached the door, she heard her son screaming at something and she rushed through the door without a thought. She found her son, her sweet innocent son, standing there with his wand pointed at his bleeding and crying wife. She reacted on instinct, putting herself between her son and the woman. Her son lowered his wand, a quizzical smile replacing the rage she had seen moments before. "Mother. I know what this looks like, but you have misunderstood the situation." Agnes stood there, she wanted to so badly believe her son. He must have been trying to heal this wife. Her beautiful boy could never... her eyes locked on a spot of black on bare forearm. He immediately tried to cover it up, but memories flooded Agnes. A sob of disbelief filled her. Her questions filled her mind, and she suddenly knew the answers. She had been blind to her own sons cruelty. She glanced over her shoulder. "Run." The woman stood and turned, but a flash of green followed her and the body hit the floor. Agnes felt a cry of despair fall from her mouth. Any innocence she had seen in her son was now gone.

Her son turned to her with eyes that shined with malice. Her son no longer looked like her son, instead looking like the man who had raped her so many years ago. She quickly transformed into a dog, a secret she had kept from even him. But his instincts were faster than hers. A stream of purple magic hit her and she howled in agony. She fell to the floor and held herself in a fetal position. Pain rippled through her muscles and her claws cut at her legs. She barely noticed the world around her for hours, the pain attacking every part of her body. It was the next day that the Healers finally were able to make the pain fade away, but she heard them whisper that there was no way to revert her to human form again. Hardly an hour later, she was taken before the wizengamot. Despite not protesting, the aurors put a muzzle around her canine mouth, and magic-binding cuffs around her wrists. As she entered the court, she stared at the wizards and witches around her. She watched as her son walked into the room, his face painted with grief. He opened his mouth and started telling a story of lies. How his mother was experimenting with the animagus transformation despite him begging her not to. How she had become stuck, and when his poor wife had tried to help his mother, his mother had viciously ripped her to shreds. His son begged that Agnes not be placed in Azkaban, but rather secured in the hospital until one day they could find a cure. Her objections came out of her mouth as only whines and barks. The Wizengamot looked at her with pity and fear and gave into his request.

She was still here. He visited her twice a year, to give the appearance of a loving son. But not even he knew how much she was aware of the world. She knew that the Dark Lord was back. Despite the radio calling out Harry Potter as a liar. The next time she saw her son, she could feel that evil energy that had tainted him. She howled at him until he left. Months passed, and Agnes felt her heart begin to break. One day, Harry Potter showed up in the ward. He was there to see the boy who always cried over the couple. He said hello to the man with no memory. He glanced curiously at the teapot man, who began to mutter "re" over and over again. Finally, his green eyes turned to Agnes. Those eyes were world-weary but they were still innocent. In them, she saw what her son should be. But then they turned away and Agnes lay back on her bed, hardly listening to the healer's announcement that her son would visit her soon.

When he arrived, Agnes searched his brown eyes for some shred of innocence. Some flicker of guilt. Instead she watched cruelty dance in them. She let him pet her forearm as he rambled quietly about he had risen in the world. How he was sure to become the Minister one day. Agnes felt her heart break as she realized what she had to do. She watched him carefully. When he turned his eyes to the pretty healer who walked in, she snapped forward, took his throat in her jaws and tore. The healer looked up and screamed, pulled her wand and stunned Agnes. But it was good late, her son's disbelieving but dead eyes stared at her. Peace filled her, and she closed her mind the world for good.

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 **Written for: Lamia's Title Competition ~ _Title must be one word_**

 **Word Count: 1,581**


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